


Cicadas in December

by damedanbo



Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Assisted Suicide, Character Death, Chronic Illness, Death, Depression, Family, Gen, Isolation, Recovery, Slow Suicide, dying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-10
Updated: 2017-09-10
Packaged: 2018-12-26 07:28:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12054192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/damedanbo/pseuds/damedanbo
Summary: Elementary school. Fon, the tonfa. Patrols around the neighborhood. Training. Callouses on his small hands. Tetsuya. Middle school. A new uniform. The armband. The baby. The Vongola. The school ground battles. Cherry blossoms.Hibird. More fights, more adventures. Good sushi, poor company. Naps on the roof. High school. His gakuran. The second button- they’d traded. Fights. Reconciliations. Graduation. Italy. The manor, then his house. The garden. His missions. Assassination. Espionage. Disguise. Murder. Mayhem. Liquor, and lots of it. Nights with zir, nights with them. Nights up late. The dark sky. Early mornings. The summer breeze. Namimori again. Goodbyes. Taiwan. Vacation. Adventure. Order. Chaos.And then, he didn’t remember anything else.He’d expected it to last a little longer, but that choice was long past him.





	Cicadas in December

**Author's Note:**

> I'm gay and I love Hibari and I cried for two hours writing this.

He had decided to die.

His decision went unnoticed, undetected by the famiglia, as he’d made no effort to publicize it. It was a conclusion made in private, and he felt no need to share it with the people he’d spent the past six years of his life around. Only Tetsuya knew, and he was sworn into secrecy on fear of death if he leaked the news.

There was no emotional aspect to it. He had made his choice over several months, comparing the possibilities of life and death. Living meant pain, and urgent suffering. Death carried no such baggage. A permanent solution to a lifelong problem.

For a long time, the doctors hadn’t been sure. But they knew now.

It was the same disease that had taken his mother the year before, and he’d struggled to recover from the loss since then. He had never walked away from a fight before, never backed down from a challenge- but he was tired of fighting. Tired of the sickness- both diseases. Depression had been his unyielding companion for too long now. 

He- paused in his writing and coughed, closing his eyes sharply. He could feel the stuff in his lungs, he was sure, pinning him like a moth to the tatami. He leaned over almost parallel to the ground, holding a hand to his mouth to keep the noise down, to keep from gagging and choking and throwing up.

Tetsuya stood in the doorway, silent and faded, watching. His hair was down. He’d stopped doing it recently- probably around the time he’d decided to die. He wondered if the two were related; if Tetsu had decided to rebel, now that his master was dying.

He didn’t mind.

It had been three months since he’d stopped taking the medication. He wasn’t doing well- he could tell by the pain in Tetsu’s dark eyes, a flat brown sorrow. Some mornings he awoke to find blood on his pillowcase; some days, he awoke to find blood on the tatami where he’d fainted.

It was in his nature to struggle and fight to survive. Laying down to die like a fallow deer in the woods, long hunted by the wolf, wounded on the thigh… it wasn’t like him at all, was it? Would the others notice if they saw him, how he sat so patiently for death’s call?

He sat back up and resumed. There were many letters to write- farewells, mostly. He didn’t mention where he was going, or what was taking him. Only that he would be gone. Perhaps in a few years they’d notice how long it had been- five, ten years without him- and wonder at his passing. Do you think he’s dead? Or do you think he’s still out there? At the end of the letter, he signed no name. They would know.

He paused again, another goodbye finished. Tetsu would send them after his passing. To think he had become so sentimental, to feel the need to inform the famiglia of his intent to vacate- to think, he had integrated into the herd so smoothly, he himself hadn’t noticed it. To realize that he’d become fond, something a carnivore must never be, fond of the mice he’d once hunted, keeping them now like pets of some sort.

He cleared his throat and Tetsu entered the room. “I want to go outside,” he announced. His voice had become quiet, a little raspy as time passed without treatment. His hacking never seemed to end, leaving his throat raw. So very raw.

Tetsuya nodded and approached him, holding his hands out to help him up. He’d stopped eating again- all the better to die quicker, and as his body ate up its reserves, he’d begun to lose muscle mass in his extremities. Standing and walking had become a chore, but he refused a wheelchair. It would not have matched his house.

Tetsu stood him on his feet but stayed close, and he leaned on him, feeling very small, very like a child. Children were always the weakest of the herd, the slowest, the thinnest, the easiest to hunt to extinction. He felt it now, in his gut, the hunter creeping towards him.

His second in command walked him the meters to the door and he reached out to open it. Cold air rushed into the house from the garden. A light snow had fallen, not enough to mask the garden from view. It was all still recognizable- the pond, the trees, the dead flowers, all dusted with a fine, sharp powder. Blurry, but still there. It would all return in the spring, after he’d gone. Tetsuya helped him sit on the edge of the engawa and left him a moment, returning to the house for a thick blanket to drape over his shoulders. He hung his feet off the veranda, dangling over the edge without enough energy to swing his legs.

The cold failed to rejuvenate him. A blizzard was not a wake up call; the snow did not shock him back to life. He remained there, dying, just as slowly as before.

 

He did not look into mirrors anymore. He could not stand to see himself.

Instead he let Tetsu comb his hair, brush his teeth for him. He did not want his teeth to fall out, even in the end; the thought of it choked him. After the third month, Tetsu had to bathe him as well, helping him in and out of the tub, washing his body with the utmost of care. In the moments when Tetsu would help him into the tub, he would sink into the warmth of the hot water, and know that it was not for him.

When Tetsu dressed him, groomed him, walked him back to his low writing desk, he knew what it was to be a doll. A plaything. Soon, he knew, that would be all that was left- a marionette, strings cut, no puppeteer. Dark stage. Ragged curtains. Empty auditorium.

He started on the next letter, dipping his pen into the inkwell and gliding the tip over the piece of stationary. A letter to Mukuro, his partner and lover, who had not seen him in the past six months. Probably ze had moved on, now. He didn’t mind. The goodbyes were for him.

He heard the car stop in front of the house, but did not move. He heard the knock on the door, and Tetsu’s footsteps towards it. He listened to the door sliding open, the cold wind that howled at his sanctuary from outside, threatening him with something unknown. Muffled voices, two- Tetsu and the bronco, arguing in the doorway.

“I’m here to see him,” Cavallone said. Tetsu said something too soft to catch from this far, but Dino’s voice rose. “I know he’s here! Let me in!”

Tetsu would fight if he had to. He was no guardian, but he had learned to keep up with him, over time. It had been slow learning. Their first meeting was still ingrained in his mind- the beating he’d given Tetsu, two years his senior, the blood that stained his uniform. The awed look in his eyes. Tetsu had never truly caught up with him-

Ah… But look at him now. Tetsuya could overpower him in an instant, in this state.

A scuffle, the sound of a struggle. “Kyouya!” Dino’s voice. Romario’s frantic dialing on his cell phone, speaking hurriedly into it. Ah. Did they think Tetsu was keeping him captive, in his own house? Really? He had to cough but he held it in, hand against his mouth, wheezing hard as he convulsed, blood dribbling between his fingers to stain the letter he was writing.

Inevitably, Dino broke through Tetsu’s blockade and stormed the house. He moved from room to room, pausing in the doorways, throwing open the shoji and leaving them open. He thundered past the room he was in and doubled back, stopping in the entrance to the room.

He did not acknowledge that the bronco was there, but continued with his bloodied letter. Cavallone stepped into the room, walking softly. Afraid to spook the doe. “Kyouya?” he asked, stopping a meter from his desk where he sat, writing. What did he look like now? Grey in pallor, he knew. Gaunt, he was sure. Like a man who was dying.

A man who  _ was  _ dying.

When he looked up, there were tears in the bronco’s eyes, unshed, unfallen, but there nonetheless. “Kyouya,” he said again.

_ Don’t cry for the dead _ , he thought, but didn’t say. His throat was too raw to speak today. He nodded in acknowledgement.

Dino dropped to his knees and reached for him, grabbing his hands. “Kyouya, I- whatever, whatever this is, I’m here to help you.” 

He jerked his hands away and looked down, pen moving again. “Please, say something! Tell me what’s happened to you!” A sigh. Was it so hard to understand? Was the cycle of life and death so incomprehensible to the don?

He flipped the letter over and wrote on the back, in rough, shaking letters. It was getting hard to hold a pen, now. Dino watched carefully, mouthing the words as they came, reading them upside-down.

_ It is the inevitable. _

_ I do not want to be helped. _

_ Please do not visit again. _

Dino choked and tears flowed down his cheeks. Surely he had known this was coming. He’d known him the closest, next to Tetsu and Mukuro. Perhaps he’d seen a healthy boy six years ago, before the Varia battles; perhaps he’d thought he was doing okay six months ago, before the decision was signed in blood.

But Dino had to have known what he was doing when he left again, when he stopped taking calls and visitors a few months back, when he’d erased himself from the immediate family. He wasn’t dead yet, but he had made himself disappear already.

“This- this isn’t happening,” Cavallone sobbed, eyes squeezed shut. He squeezed his hand tight, so that his skin turned white. “You can’t just  _ decide  _ this on your own! You can’t do this!”

_ This is what I want.  _ He lifted his hand and Tetsu, in the doorway, stepped in. He grabbed Dino by his shoulders and helped him upright, guiding him away from the desk. Dino let himself be led. The door closed.

He bowed his head and tried to breathe.

 

He found himself quickly running out of people to send letters to, as Mukuro visited next. Ze circled around the room, examining the decor, and stopped near the door to the engawa. “It’s been a while,” ze said, smiling at him.

He had a voice today. He used it. “What did the bronco tell you?” he rasped, ending with a long, rattling cough. Mukuro waited for him to finish.

“I wanted to see for myself what could kill the great Hibari Kyouya,” Mukuro said, not quite answering. Ze dragged zir finger down an antique print hung on the wall.

Tetsuya had let zir right in when ze had arrived, not putting up any fight. He and Mukuro had always come and gone as they pleased- even in times like these, there was no reason to restrict zir. It wouldn’t have worked anyway.

“Are you going to die?” Mukuro asked.

_ Are you going to miss me?  _ He thought, sadly. He nodded.

“It’s almost Christmas, you know. That’s a terrible gift for the people you love.”

“Don’t try to shame me,” he sighed. 

“I won’t.” A pause. “If you want me there in the end, let me know.”

He nodded. 

 

On Christmas eve, he could not get out of bed.

On Christmas day, he could not sit up.

Tetsuya waited on him, bringing him water throughout the day, dripping it past his lips. At noon, he stepped out to place some phone calls. 

He slept.

And he dreamed.

He remembered the earliest memories of his childhood. Things he had forgotten. His mother, arms outstretched, ready to catch him. Fon, nearby, laughing. Keiko, the first time he had seen her, hiding behind her mother’s skirt. Pan up to his father, a distant look in his eyes. 

He skipped the bad memories. The things he didn’t want to take with him.

School. His first day at kindergarten. His red backpack. First companions. Playing in the park as his mother watched.

Elementary school. Fon, the tonfa. (He counted that as a good memory. It had to count.) Patrols around the neighborhood. Training. Callouses on his small hands. Tetsuya. Middle school. A new uniform. The armband. The baby. The Vongola. The school ground battles. Cherry blossoms.

(He did not think about his time in Kokuyo Land.)

Hibird. More fights, more adventures. Good sushi, poor company. Naps on the roof. High school. His gakuran. The second button- they’d traded. Fights. Reconciliations. Graduation. Italy. The manor, then his house. The garden. His missions. Assassination. Espionage. Disguise. Murder. Mayhem. Liquor, and lots of it. Nights with zir, nights with them. Nights up late. The dark sky. Early mornings. The summer breeze. Namimori again. Goodbyes. Taiwan. Vacation. Adventure. Order. Chaos. 

And then, he didn’t remember anything else.

He’d expected it to last a little longer, but that choice was long past him.

December 25th.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


 

 

 

The sound of cicadas. He heard it distinctly, an insect singing. It was summer again. An easygoing day. It was warm, but cool air blew at him from somewhere. The cicada sang its life song. He couldn’t remember having anything to do, any responsibilities. 

The cicada song grew louder, erratic. There must have been hundreds of them. The cicada had never represented rebirth or new life.

They were the bringers of death.

He was struck with a chill and shivered, remembering. December 25th. So his eternal summer vacation was here already.

_ I want to see the cherry blossoms again _ , he thought, and then he woke up.

 

“You’re awake!” Sasagawa Ryohei yelled at him as Kyouya blinked blearily up at the ceiling of his bedroom. There was noise all around him, people, not insects, not singing.

_ Ah,  _ he thought,  _ am I alive? _

What a horrible feeling.

But he could feel the warmth bearing down on him, fighting back the sickness. He could not lift his head, but knew what Ryohei was doing without looking.

“You had us worried there,” Yamamoto Takeshi laughed, looking a little tense. “It’s a good thing Kusakabe called us when he did!”

Tetsuya knelt closeby, looking a little bit ashamed, but mostly very relieved. It must have killed him, waiting until the last day to call for help. Kyouya glanced over at him. Tetsu hung his head.

Chrome was crying, but that was to be expected. She was bad at forgoing attachments, no matter what she liked to think. Mukuro held her as she wept, patting her hair and smiling down at her. 

“Kyouya,” Sawada Tsunayoshi said, moving into his line of vision. “We were all worried about you.”

He felt the tears come, but couldn’t do anything to stop them. Someone stroked his hair- he glanced up sharply and found Dino, kneeling at his head, grinning down at him.

“If you still want to die, I can put you out of your misery,” Gokudera Hayato offered, coping by way of a bad joke. Tsuna shot him a “quit it” kind of look. Kyouya found the strength to move his head and shook it, and closed his eyes.

No one wanted to die.

 

“We’re almost there!” Ryohei yelled from up ahead, voice reverberating down the stairs to them. Gokudera lifted his head and scowled, yelling back.

“Will you pipe down, grass-for-brains? We can see that!” He huffed, making eye contact with Tsuna and rolling his eyes. Tsuna smiled, glancing back at the trio behind them.

He walked slowly up the steps, but he was walking. Hibari always had been quick to recover. Mukuro stood on his right for support, and Dino practically clung to his left arm, hand on the small of his back to keep him from falling back down the stairs. Yamamoto, with Lambo on his shoulders, and Chrome made up the tail end of the train. Tetsuya was waiting at the bottom of the stairs, by the cars.

“I don’t feel safe with the bronco holding me up,” Kyouya muttered to his lover. “He’s going to fall and take me with him.”

“Romario’s watching! I’m fine!” Dino cried. Kyouya grinned, eyes on the next step.

They reached the top soon enough and regrouped. Ryohei jogged in place in his kimono, punching the air, while the rest of them stretched their legs and walked around the San Marino jinja. Snow crunched beneath their boots as they passed through the sando, talking amongst themselves, occasional laughter echoing around the bare place. The nine of them in their kimonos approached the shrine in good spirits that New Year’s, and there was a certain feeling of familiarity and hope in the chilly air.

The shrine was empty, but footprints in the snow remained where people had come and gone earlier in the day. Ryohei reached the haiden first and began praying, loud enough for the back of the group to hear, making fervent wishes for Kyoko’s happiness and safety. 

“That’s too many wishes,” Gokudera scoffed at him, “now they won’t come true.”

“YOU! That’s not how wishes work!” Ryohei yelled, leaping to his feat to fight with the younger mafioso. Tsuna sighed, breaking it up so that he and Gokudera could pray.

“What should I wish for?” Dino asked softly as they neared the haiden. Kyouya glanced at him.

“I’m not going to tell you.”

“But I don’t know what to ask for! What if I waste my wish?”

“Too bad.”

“I know what I’m wishing for,” Mukuro said, smirking at the blond.

“Well, we can’t all be Mukuro Rokudo,” Dino muttered as they reached the building and separated to pray. Kyouya closed his eyes, bowed his head, and pressed his palms together in silence. 

“What did you wish for?” Dino asked cheerfully when he finally finished, long after the other two.

“Mind your business,” he said breezily, leaning on Mukuro to get away from the haiden. Cavallone huffed and grouped up with Tsuna and Gokudera instead.

“What  _ did  _ you wish for?” Mukuro asked casually as they walked some distance away, enjoying the cold morning air.

“Mm. You know,” Kyouya said.

Mukuro smiled at him. “I’m glad,” ze said, unlinking their arms to take his hand. 

“Me too,” Kyouya murmured, squeezing. The snow began to fall again, light and dusty from the blue-grey sky, covering the world in a layer of freshness. The new year was just beginning.

  
  


神様，

 

死にたくない。

ぼく の かぞく が だいすき だ。

ぼく がここに滞在しましてください。

生きたい。

 

_ 生きたい。 _

 

**Author's Note:**

> whether he survives and goes to the shrine or whether he dies and that's his idea of heaven is largely up to you :)


End file.
